


they fought like demons

by hypatheticallyspeaking



Series: still no sign [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, M/M, Spy!AU, lots of character study-ish stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatheticallyspeaking/pseuds/hypatheticallyspeaking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never thought he’d be worried about her of all people. Go back two months, and he would have gladly turned on Miss High-and-Mighty Clarke Griffin. Ever since half of the Company’s undercover agents vanished on their missions, Bellamy was removed from his eight-month stint behind a desk. At the drop of a dime, he was forced back into the world of espionage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they fought like demons

He never thought he’d be worried about  _her_ of all people. Go back two months, and he would have gladly turned on Miss High-and-Mighty Clarke Griffin. Ever since half of the Company’s undercover agents vanished on their missions, Bellamy was removed from his eight-month stint behind a desk. At the drop of a dime, he was forced back into the world of espionage.

*

So when Marcus Kane calls him in, gruff and emotionless, he prepares to meet up with his former partner. When Miller isn’t in the briefing room, the importance of what has happened hits him like a bullet to the gut. The empty room feels like a black hole, pulling him back into the lies and fighting.

“Agent Blake,” Kane begins, taking a seat in the rolling chair at the far side of the table. “You are officially being put on another mission.” He gestures to the two seats in front of Bellamy. “If you please.”

“Of course, Sir.” He perches on the edge of the seat, anxious for what his first mission will be. He had been out of commission because of a bullet wound for months, and his reflexes have slowed slightly. It’s not enough for others to notice, but he has. “It’s good to be back.”

There are several manila folders on the table, each containing at least twenty papers within them. The tagging system that Kane developed indicates that the files contain extremely classified information; he knows for the fact that he doesn’t have clearance. Raising his eyes to meet Kane’s, his face is one of complete confusion.

“You’ve been moved to the next clearance level,” a feminine voice interjects from the doorway. It is an older woman, and after a second he recognizes her as the one who stitched up his shoulder. “As much as I don’t think you’re ready—fully recuperated, that is—to return to the field, you are one of the best operatives we have. Which is why Thelonious, Marcus, and I chose you for this mission.”

Kane coughs, redirecting Bellamy’s attention. “We are also assigning you a new partner. She hasn’t been on as many missions as you, but she’s a fighter.” The man doesn’t appear to meet Abby Griffin’s gaze. To him, it seems that this was the most argued aspect to the briefing. “Abby, would you get her?”

“Yes, _Sir_.” The Company’s in-house-surgeon grinds out the last word through her teeth, and although Bellamy can’t see the woman’s face, he can easily imagine the distaste. God knows he’s been at the brunt of her anger on more than one occasion.

They sit in silence for roughly a minute before the door swings open again. Bellamy glances over his shoulder to see a young woman, probably a few years younger than himself, standing next to Abby. His eyes flit from one woman to the other, and he realizes who the young woman is.

“Bellamy Blake,” Kane introduces, “Meet Clarke Griffin.”

He stands up and quickly, glancing over his new partner’s appearance. He’ll admit that she’s pretty—not aloud, of course—with a regal, almost high-class look. But it’s ruined by the lack of emotion on her face and the steel in her eyes. He extends a hand to her. “Nice to meet you.”

She shakes his hand, her blue eyes scanning him, just as he had. “Pleasure.” Gesturing for him to take a seat, she smiles although it’s just a twitch in the corner of her mouth. “What is the mission, Kane?”

He opens the topmost folder, revealing a picture of a pale, middle-aged man. “This is your target. His name is Cage Wallace.” Clarke spins the manila folder around, and the papers slide along with it. Leaning forward, Bellamy presses his lips together in a thin line; there’s something about this man’s posture that portrays a sense of self entitlement and also strength. He doesn’t like it. “He is now the head of Mount Weather. On the outside, they are a rescue organization for the impoverished. But there have been rumors that behind the altruistic front, they are running black-market dealings and conspiring with other governments. All of our personnel who were investigating the branches vanished within a week of each other. It was a few at first, but now it’s been nearly a full month without any contact whatsoever. Something is up, and we need you two to figure it out. Without intel, we’re stuck.”

“How long is the mission?” The words slip from Bellamy’s lips before he can stop himself. “And what is our cover?”

Abby leaves the room quickly, closing the door with more force than necessary.

“The mission is a one-month minimum. You need to gain good standing within Mount Weather. Enough that they trust you with their classified information. Because our last people to join in—Blake, Jordan, Green, Harper, and Miller—are under surveillance and we can’t contact them.”

His shoulders tense up when he hears his last name. His _sister’s_ last name.

“You still didn’t answer the question,” Clarke points out without lifting her eyes from the dossier. “It can’t be _that_ bad.”

Kane reads off of the paper in front of him, his voice perfectly even. “Agents Blake and Griffin are to go undercover as an engaged couple.” He raises his eyes to meet theirs. “We have obtained a position for Griffin as a doctor in their clinic, and as a security guard for Blake.” Wedged within another folder are two passports, which he hands to the agents. “You have three days to learn your cover.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Bellamy echoes Clarke’s earlier sentiment, not realizing that it is going to be his downfall.

*

Three days. Three days of absolute _hell_. Bellamy quickly discovers that Clarke’s a perfectionist with a micromanagement streak. Whenever he misses one of her random questions about a day in their nonexistent history, she gives him the silent treatment combined with a death glare. To be fair, he isn’t the most helpful partner when it comes to situations like this.

He returns to training, grateful to hold a gun in his hands and to build up his combat skills against someone he’s never fought before. Clarke fights with logic and precision; she’s defensive and whips forward with solid strikes that can easily incapacitate anyone unprepared. It only happens once before he notices her pattern. She’s left-handed, which is rare, but she has a nasty habit of stepping back on her left foot before moving to land a punch. She doesn’t kick much, and she’s more than competent with a knife. He actually enjoys when she gets frustrated, blue eyes like a superheated flame and blowing her blonde hair out of her face; he can manipulate her into being _so_ mad, and he gets a thrill out of it. He’s not normally this much of an ass, and he knows he’s being an ass.

She annoys him right back. She smirks whenever she sees him get frustrated at not learning fully everything, and he refuses to admit that he’s a perfectionist when it comes to his missions. He’s smart, just like her, and he starts to realize that they might actually be a good team. Not that he’ll say that to her. They clash over the small things: nuances in their ‘history,’ how their aliases met, why they decided to change their positions from a firm in New York to the smaller Station City. They don’t have down what makes them _people_. Clarke can recite her alias’ story without blinking an eye, even hinting at emotion when she talks about a friend dying or a deceased parent. Bellamy responds to the questions with a gruff ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ only elaborating when Clarke insists that he does so. He knows that she’s memorized his story as well, and she’s trying to make them personable, friendly.

They fight like demons. It’ll start out about something small, a quirk or a small gesture, and escalate into a roaring debate with waving arms and raised voices. Bellamy swears he hasn’t yelled this much since Octavia’s rebellious phase as a teenager. His voice is hoarse afterwards, and he feels adrenaline pump through his veins in the aftermath. Honestly, he’s going to hurt himself when arguing with Clarke, not when sleuthing around Mount Weather.

So when their bags are packed, and they prepare to move to the new apartment, he watches her warily.

“How are we going to do this, princess?”

“It’s just a mission, Bellamy. Follow protocols and we’ll be fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work is property of hypatheticallyspeaking, AKA don't copy it.


End file.
